


amor(tentia) for beginners

by thankyouforexisting



Category: Countdown to Countdown (Webcomic)
Genre: Amortentia, First Date, First Kiss, Fluff, Forehead Kisses, Harry Potter AU, Hogwarts AU, M/M, Magic, Yule Ball, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 10:11:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10435395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thankyouforexisting/pseuds/thankyouforexisting
Summary: "Lillium looks at him while they’re in a shared class, his gaze warming up the back of his neck to the degree that his whole body feels hot. Lillium looks at him while they’re eating together in the Great Hall, laughing whenever he gets mashed potato on his nose (it’s not his fault forks are hard, okay?), and it’s so fond it makes his breath escape him. Lillium looks at him while they’re in the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade, eyes turning shades darker the moment he leans forward to wipe the butterbeer foam from his lips. Lillium’s looked at him since they were kids, a familiar gaze tingling the back of his neck, keeping him safe.Lillium just… he’s always looking."Withartfrom vel <3





	

**Author's Note:**

> im so sorry vel  
> happy inauguration of the ctc fandom tag and the lillis ship tag

“We’ll be learning to brew Amortentia,” the Potions Professor announces.

 

She has her arms crossed over her chest, her fingers curling around the base of her long ebony wand, nails painted deep red. Carefully, full of intention, she meets the eyes of every student sitting on the uncomfortable dungeon stools. Her gaze is level. 

 

Iris scowls, stubbornly looking away. If he’s learnt anything from his childhood, it’s that adults who seek intimidation can’t be trusted.

 

“This is an extremely dangerous love potion,” she continues, her voice forcefully stern. “Any use of it besides academical  _ will _ be punished harshly by the Ministry. It is forbidden to take these potions out of this classroom if I have not given you my explicit consent. I must remind you all that you are above 17 years of age, and therefore can be judged as adults by the Wizengamot.” She pauses for a second. Red fingernails tap against her shaved forearm. “Is that understood?”

 

Slowly, everyone in the potions laboratory nods their head. Some of the braver students in the first row mutter, “Yes, Professor.” under their breath. Next to him, Iris can see Begonia pale, fidgeting with the edge of her robes. It’s not the first time they’ve brewed a potion regulated by the Ministry before, and it won’t be the last (the N.E.W.T.s are still a semester away, after all), but the middle-aged witch always manages to make it seem like they’re all going to end up in Azkaban for even  _ thinking _ about doing something illegal.

 

The Professor, now apparently satisfied with her fear-mongering, begins talking about the effects of Amortentia. Iris fights the urge to sigh and roll his eyes, letting his head rest against his elbow. As if any teenager in the wizarding world can go their whole life without hearing over and over about the most famous love potion in history. 

 

It ends up being one of the dullest potions classes that Iris’s ever had to suffer through, full of lecturing and thinly-veiled Ministry propaganda. There’s none of the fun parts of potions; the chopping with dangerously rusty knives, brewing with one hand while Begonia ads ingredients cheerfully, or other classics; such as staring at some of the things on their worktable and wondering which disgusting part of a creature it came from. 

 

“Well, I’m glad that’s over,” Iris mutters, walking towards the Great Hall. “I just can’t  _ wait _ until we brew a love potion.”

 

“I t-think it’ll be exciting,” Begonia pipes in, her hair floating happily. A First Year gives them an alarmed look as they pass beside him, eyes wide. Iris ignores them. It takes everyone a while to get used to Begonia’s friendly levitation, so the few weeks after holidays there’s always surprised muggleborns. They usually warm up to her when she offers help with Herbology tutoring, though. 

 

“Potions that have emotional aspects rather than physical ones always seem more fun, don’t they?” Begonia’s eyes glow with excitement. “And there’s so much research about how magic is an emotional force instead of just a physical expression - ”

 

“Crazy fun,” he agrees quickly, his lips curling upwards. It’s hard to say anything negative regarding potions around Begonia; they’re her life’s dream. He holds onto his bag’s straps, wincing at the weight.

 

An arm settles over his shoulder, and he gets pulled backwards, hitting something solid and warm. A smooth chest. “Ooh, someone’s having fun without me?” Teasing, gentle, playful.

 

Iris smiles, unable to help it, and rolls his eyes. “When do we ever have fun  _ with _ you, Lillium? Your only ability is to not fall off brooms.”

 

“I’ll have you know, Iris Black.” Lillium releases him, moving until he’s beside Iris and grinning at him. His pink hair clashes terribly with his red-and-gold tie, as it has since they were thirteen years old and he decided to dye it, only to accidentally use a permanent potion. “Not falling off a broom is a very precious and sought-after skill. Many cannot claim to achieve such greatness.”

 

He glares at him, “Just because I fall  _ one time _ \- “

 

“It was absolutely adorable.” The Gryffindor’s grin widens. “Wasn’t he, Begonia?”

 

“Um.” She sweats, wringing her hands together. “I d-don’t really  _ know _ , it’s not like I was really looking -” 

 

“Leave her alone, you brainless squid,” Iris punches his shoulder“Not everybody is obsessed with me like you are.”

 

“I have no idea why that is. “Lillium smiles, something soft. “You are definitely worth obsessing over.”

 

The way he sounds so unbearably  _ honest _ , despite the fact that they were playing around; the short caress as Lillium grabs his hand and gently  _ squeezes _ , his eyes never leaving his -  makes Iris’s heart (his stupid,  _ stupid _ heart) skip a beat.

 

…

 

The first Quidditch match of the term is always, without fail, Gryffindor against Slytherin. It’s become tradition, after almost of decade of arrogant teenagers fighting each other on brooms in the name of a stupid school rivalry. Iris thinks it’s absolute nonsense.

 

He still goes to the first game, though, just because he’s that pathetic. Before he resigns himself to making his way to sit down at the Gryffindor stands - there’s no way he could cheer for Lillium’s team in the Slytherin stands without getting murdered by the raging crowd - Iris walks down to the locker rooms.

 

“Is this Gryffindor?” he asks warily, once he’s standing in front of the door. Back in year five he accidentally started talking to the Hufflepuffs about Lillium’s strategy for the game, mistaking the two sets of rooms, and the guy’s never forgiven him.

 

(“ _ I didn’t know they were Hufflepuffs!” “They were literally wearing black and yellow!” “...I didn’t know they were Hufflepuffs.” “Merlin, you can’t make that face when I’m mad at you, Iris Black.” _ )

 

Lillium’s head pops as the door opens, smiling wide. “Yes, sir! This is us! Getting ready for battle!”

 

Iris rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “That’s nice.”

 

The boy pouts dramatically, finally opening the door the whole way through and leaning against the doorframe, sighing. “You’re so mean to me.”

 

Iris smiles, just slightly, and hits his shoulder playfully, “No need to feed your ego.”

 

“Not even a little?” Lillium asks hopefully.

 

“You’re going to do great, okay?” Iris tells him, because he’s known Lillium for far too long not to see the lines of tension running through his body. He’s been stressing out about the first game for weeks now - the guy believes the first game sets a trend for the whole semester, and he doesn’t want to disappoint his team. “You’ve been training hard all winter.”

 

“Yeah, but,” Lillium bites his lower lip, gaze flicking up and down. “They’ve got that new Seeker, and she’s being scouted… it’s just not looking that good.”

 

“Nonsense,” Iris says firmly, putting his hand on Lillium’s shoulder and squeezing. “Just do your best, Lillium. There’s a reason Gryffindor sings your praises, and it’s not your dashing personality.”

 

“I take offence at that.” He smiles back, though.

 

“I have to go,” Iris glances around him. “The match is about to start, and I don’t want Mrs. Hills to tell me off again.” He hesitates, feeling a bit unsure, and then quickly goes up on his toes to kiss Lillium’s cheek, hoping his heartbeat isn’t audible. “Good luck.”

 

Iris runs away before he can see his reaction - and  _ god _ , his face is  _ burning _ , he can  _ feel _ it - hurrying to the Gryffindor stands. He gets a seat next to some of the Seventh Years, and takes a few deep breaths to calm himself down.

 

“Oh, Iris,” one of Lillium’s friends immediately says hello to him, standing up to shake his hand. “How’s it going, eh? Still haven’t been banned by the snakes?”

 

“I sleep with my knife under my pillow,” Iris deadpans, rolling his eyes. The Gryffindors scoot to make more room for him, and he leans back, sighing. “How bad is it going to be? Lillium says they have a new Seeker.” 

 

Just because he’s encouraging doesn’t mean he suddenly forgot Lillium is terrible at game predictions.

 

“Well, a bit tough,”  Brenda says, rubbing her eyes and yawning. She’s Lillium’s partner in his ‘Cooking with the house-elves’ program (a terribly naive, terribly well-intentioned project in which he attempts to let the students learn how to cook, whilst understanding house elves better to end stigma). “We’ve got Johnson injured, so we’re using our reserve Seeker, who’s terrified, the poor thing.” She frowns a little. “There’s still White and Derby getting the quaffle, though. We don’t need to panic  _ too _ bad.”

 

Iris raises an eyebrow, amused beyond belief. “I’ll never get over how dependable you all find him, he’s a mess.”

 

The Gryffindor girl snorts, side-eyeing him. “He  _ is _ a mess, doofus, when he’s talking to  _ you _ .”

 

For a moment, Iris opens his mouth, cheeks flushed, but then the whistle rings, and both teams enter the field. The stands erupt in cheers, from all the different houses, unrestrainedly loud. 

 

If there’s something to be said for Quidditch, Iris muses as he tries to find Lillium’s pink hair in the multitude of red-and-gold capes starting to fly, is that everyone enjoys it unabashedly. He’s never really been much into it (Iris is more into pizza and Transfiguring people’s stuff when they turn around; much more rewarding), but Lillium  _ adores  _ it, to a degree that might just qualify as  _ cute _ . 

 

He has a subscription to all the major Quidditch magazines -  even the gossip ones that speculate about which Seeker is hooking up with which famous Beater - and reads them religiously. Iris has seen his special boxes decorated with snitch wallpaper where he keeps all his Quidditch memorabilia and the issues he’s collected. Begonia’s told him that she once accidentally ripped a page in an magazine from the 90s and Lillium refused to speak to her for a week.  

 

Iris remembers watching First Year Lillium White - a scrawny kid who was too loud for his own good, coming up to him in the Great Hall and babbling in his ear about how  _ cool _ Iris was, and how  _ awesome _ his hair looked - learn how to fly, bit by bit.

 

As Lillium soars upwards, sky-high, he moves towards the Gryffindor stands, receiving a thunderous round of applause from the students, Iris included. He slows down, just slightly, until he passes slowly enough in front of Iris to wave, beaming at him, his lips curving around the shape of his name.

 

Pleased, hoping he isn’t blushing  _ too _ much, Iris waves back.

 

…

 

Iris prefers not to study with Lillium, if he’s focusing on his grades.

 

Because, most of the time? Studying with Lillium just means sitting next to each other in the library, being ridiculously grateful that their thighs are touching, and pretending that he’s not hyper-aware of Lillium looking at him.

 

Lillium looks at him…  _ a lot _ . And- it’s just- Iris has a really hard time ignoring it.

 

Lillium looks at him while they’re in a shared class, his gaze warming up the back of his neck to the degree that his whole body feels hot. Lillium looks at him while they’re eating together in the Great Hall, laughing whenever he gets mashed potato on his nose (it’s not his fault forks are  _ hard _ , okay?), and it’s so fond it makes his breath escape him. Lillium looks at him while they’re in the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade, eyes turning shades darker the moment he leans forward to wipe the butterbeer foam from his lips. Lillium’s looked at him since they were kids, a familiar gaze tingling the back of his neck, keeping him safe.

 

Lillium just… he’s always  _ looking _ .

 

“How’s potions coming along?” he asks Iris, bumping their shoulders together. “Does the Professor still piss you off?”

 

Iris sighs, leaning against Lillium and ceasing his attempts to memorize Ancient Runes. “It’s okay, she’s still a massive pain in the arse.”

 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he hums, lips pressed to Iris’s hair. He shivers. “What are you brewing right now? Confusing Concoction? The Draught of Living Death? Felix felices?”

 

“Amortentia,” he mumbles, feeling his eyelids flutter. It’s warm in the library, thanks to the Librarian’s habit of renewing her Warming Charms every couple of hours, and the torches on the walls provide little light, enough that it always feels like nighttime when the sun goes down. He barely slept last night, studying for this stupid test. “Everyone’s warned not to be a bad, evil wizard and make someone fall in love.”

 

“Really?” Lillium teases. “Guess they should have issued that warning years ago.”

 

Iris shuts his eyes. He’s not letting himself think about that. He burrows a bit closer into Lillium, the scratchy material of his robes sliding against his cheek. “If I fall asleep, wake me up.” Iris is just saying it to feel better about himself; there’s no way Lillium’ll wake Iris up, even if there was a wild stampede on the library. 

 

“Who do you take me for?” Lillium sounds offended, pinching his arm good-naturedly and snorting at his pathetic whine in response. “C’mon, Black, night, night.”

 

“Love you,” he whispers, and then he’s asleep.

 

…

 

Iris realized he was different from everybody else when he was about 5 and he casually took a cup from a painting, only to hear his foster mom start screaming.

 

It took a few weeks of people trying to experiment on him, of his foster mom being taken away because of ‘mental problems’ -  before the wizarding government intervened, making all the necessary arrangements and successfully managing to remove him from the facility. 

 

Since there’s not a functioning fostering system in the wizarding world - a thing Iris plans to change as soon as he’s able to - Iris spent his first ten years between St.Mungo’s and Hogwarts, visiting the castle whenever it was possible and getting familiar with every room in the Leaky Cauldron. His childhood was passed in a series of hide and seek games in a school, only no one was ever looking for him when he hid. There were doctors in St.Mungo’s who gave him sweets and ruffled his hair affectionately, and then went home to their children.

 

Iris never really had anyone of his own.

 

It’s not normal, the people in charge of him told Iris, to be able to get things out of paintings in the way he does. Not if the painting hasn’t been  _ designed _ to do that. Iris can do it with pictures, too. Sometimes people come to him with pictures of dead relatives, thinking he can bring them back. Those are the worst. Others believe that he’s a faker, that it’s all just a magic trick. Those are preferable.

 

Begonia told him it was “extraordinary!” back when they met and spent an afternoon trying to figure out if there had been any record of a similar case throughout history (there had been). She mastered the art of awkwardly asking him questions, trying not to intrude, and pointing out what might make him like this, how it works, why  _ he _ ’s this weirdo, instead of just being like everyone else.

 

Lillium, on the other hand, doesn’t ask about it,never has. He doesn’t ignore it, the way most of his teachers seem to try their hardest to, forgetting that he’s not  _ normal _ , but he also doesn’t bring it up if Iris doesn’t want to. At the very least, he’s never asked for a ‘demonstration’, thank Merlin. Lillium finds him extraordinary in ways completely unrelated to his magic, a mystery he’s been trying to solve since he was eleven years old.

 

He thinks he never will.

 

…

 

The Potions class is supposed to start brewing Amortentia this Monday (it takes 9 days for the process to be finished, delightfully), but the Professor cancels it.

 

“We’ll be starting on Tuesday, instead,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest.  _ Tap, tap _ , go her nails. “I’ve been informed this year’s Yule Ball is on Saturday evening, and you won’t be able to come check on it that night, as you’ll be dancing and wasting your life away.” She’s such a nice person, she really is. “I hope you don’t get too tired, because I want you all here Sunday night, and don’t you dare fall asleep on me. Try to have fun,” she adds a few seconds later, as an afterthought.

 

“I didn’t know the Yule Ball was so soon,” Begonia mutters as they get out the classroom, taking out her agenda and writing notes down. “I need to find a date, and I  _ must  _ make sure my plants aren’t disturbed in the Common Room if they start throwing magical make-up around, the vapours are terrible.”

 

“I’m probably not going,” Iris sighs, rubbing his cheeks to wake himself up. “It would be kind of awkward when your exes are the Champions.”

 

“I’m still mildly impressed the twins managed to actually get  _ two _ spots for Hogwarts this year in the Triwizard,” Begonia admits, smiling.

 

Iris huffs, “Um, of course? Everyone I date is wonderful and revolutionary, you should take note of  _ that _ .”

 

Begonia chuckles a little, bumping their shoulders together. “Yes, yes, I know this.”

 

There’s a few moments of silence while they walk together, before she bites her lower lip and says, her tone completely neutral, “I just thought you would go regardless.”

 

He raises an eyebrow, “Why? Because I’m such a party person?”

 

“No,” Begonia’s voice is soft. “Because Lillium would want to go with you.”

 

Iris flushes, looking down at his feet. The Headmistress announced the ball a few days ago, and has already started out all the mandatory dancing lessons for fourth years and older. They’re the most humiliating thing he’s ever done, right after having to run after a naked Lillium screeching about ‘The  _ trolls _ , Iris!’ because one of the Gryffindors played a prank on him. 

 

“He…” he swallows hard, his throat dry. “He hasn’t asked, Begonia.”

 

_ I want him to ask _ .

 

“O-oh,” she squeaks, a bit embarrassed. “Oh, goodness, I’m getting ahead of myself. Well, I’m, er, I’m sure you two will talk this out soon. Yes. Oh, Merlin, look at the time, it’s time for my Magical Creatures lesson.” She quickly kisses his cheek in goodbye, “I’ll see you later, Iris!”

 

“As subtle as ever,” Iris mutters fondly, standing alone in the middle of the hallway.

He feels very lonely, all of a sudden.

…

 

Iris doesn’t like to talk about it, but he’s got a leaf on his fucking head.

 

The explanation for it involves a Permanent Sticking Charm going wrong, Iris screaming in the Forbidden Forest and the Giant Squid coming out of the Great Lake. He prefers to say it’s for “his aesthetic”. He’s been carrying the stupid leaf around for the better part of a year, and he’s more or less made peace with it, resigning himself to the younger kids’ teasing “Oi, leaf boy!”. 

 

Lillium enjoys lovingly caressing it and tries to call it “Steve the Leaf.” The git’s even made a fucking  _ song _ about it. If that wasn’t enough, their Herbology teacher hums it every single afternoon when they’re in class. Lillium is an idiot and should be stopped.

 

…

 

They  _ do _ start to brew the potion on Tuesday, thank Merlin. The sooner they begin, the sooner it’ll be over. 

 

It’s sort of cool to take out their gold cauldrons - there’s not many excuses to use them in class when the standard cauldrons are perfectly okay for most potions, but Amortentia has many specific requirements in order to be brewed correctly, and fancy-ass cauldrons is one of them.  

 

The love potion actually only takes two days to be completed, but there needs to be a seven-day period in between the two days in which the brewer stirs the potion just once a day. Begonia and Iris partner up as per usual, each taking care of different tasks - Iris pours the Standard Potioning Water, Begonia takes care of the Peppermint Flowers… - and finally remove the heat to cover it. 

 

“Remember, everyone,” the Professor tells them after the whole class is finished, red fingernails clinking against the metal as she checks every single cauldron. “For the next seven days, we’ll be meeting in the Dungeons to check up on your potion. If you miss one day, it will fail. There will be no do-overs, so don’t bother to ask for them.”

 

“Charming woman, isn’t she?” Iris mutters under his breath.

 

Begonia bites her lower lip, curling a strand of hair with her fingers. “She’s okay. A bit intense.”

 

Iris stares at her, incredulous. “Sometimes I think the Hogwarts House system is bullshit, but then you go and reaffirm all Hufflepuff stereotypes.”

 

“That’s not true,” she sighs, rubbing her temples. “I’m terrible at finding stuff. Lillium always has to remind me where my quill is.” Begonia stands up from her seat, pushing her hair behind her ears. “Do you want to us to switch days and come stir the potion separately? That way the both of us don’t have to be here every single time.”

 

“Sounds good,” Iris hums, getting out of the classroom and trying not to bump into anyone else. People always scram from Potions like their life’s in danger. He smiles, thinking of something. Begonia’s always been a romantic. “Are you excited to smell what true love is to you?”

 

“Yes!” Begonia’s eyes light up, and she claps her hands together in excitement. “Amortentia is so rare that I thought I’d never have the chance if they didn’t include it in the current curriculum, so I’ve been thinking about it for a few months.” She breathes, shrugging. Her cheeks are flushed. “I- I know it’s a bit silly, but I think it helps us understand ourselves better, no?”

 

“To know what we love?” Iris asks. His mouth is dry.

 

“Or who,” Begonia adds, quietly. “Sometimes the hardest part about emotions is acknowledging them.”

 

“Yeah,” Iris whispers, looking down at his feet and swallowing hard. “Tell me about it.”

 

… 

 

Iris... fails his Potions exam.

 

It’s a shock, a bucket of cold water, a shiver going down his spine. Immediately after the teacher sets the test in front of him on Thursday, his eyes widen, and he stares at the sheet of parchment. The big, red  _ 12/30 _ at the top is circled and underlined. Twice.

 

_ Try harder next time x  _ has been written next to the grade.

 

Iris can’t fail Potions. He  _ can’t _ fail Potions.

 

“Iris,” Begonia whispers. She puts her arm on his, but Iris jerks away, making himself as small as possible, and she winces, biting her lip. “S-sorry, I didn’t mean - “

 

“It’s okay,” Iris cuts her off, stern. “Just leave me alone for a few minutes, okay?”

 

He knows he’s being rude, and he knows perfectly well that Begonia is just trying to help, but he couldn’t care less at the moment.

 

Iris  just… he can’t fail potions. Not even one exam. He can’t afford to be behind on his NEWTs, that would be disastrous. If he doesn’t get a near-perfect score, it’s all over for him. If he doesn’t get hired, it’s all over for him.

 

The minute he turned 17, the Wizarding Government washed their hands off him, following the law that declares him an official adult. That means that he can’t count on them for food or shelter anymore, and he’s graduating this year. Apart from his Hogwarts equipment and the few personal items he’s collected over the years, Iris has  _ nothing _ . He’s completely dependant on being hired for something immediately after school.

 

“Fuck,” he mutters, covering his face with his hands. 

 

“Oh, come on, Black, stop whining.” One of the Slytherin snorts, rolling her eyes. “Just because you didn’t get your usual perfect score doesn’t mean it’s the end of the world, you know.”

 

“Stop it,” Begonia tells them, a clear warning in her tone. 

 

“Oh, he can’t speak for himself?” she continues, taunting. “When White’s not here, he becomes so much quieter! Where’s your bodyguard, eh?”

 

“Shut  _ up _ .” Iris growls at her, turning to glare. “Don’t you  _ dare _ say that about Lillium, you asshole.”

 

“What’s going on here?” the Professor barges in, at exactly that time.  _ Tap, tap _ , her nails on his desk. Her eyes are dark as she glances at them, her gaze landing on Iris. “Care to say?”

 

“Iris insulted me,” the Slytherin blurts out, panicked. They’re all scared of the Professor, even pureblood brats. Iris snaps his head around to glower in her direction, fuming. “We were talking and he called me an asshole.”

 

“Did he,” the Professor murmurs. It’s very clearly not a question. “Well, well. Detention tonight, Mr. Black. I guess you’ll have to clean up the dungeons tonight.”

 

Iris grits his teeth. He can’t say anything. If he complains, she might get angrier. And he  _ definitely _ can’t afford to provoke her, lest she grades him unfairly. It wouldn’t be the first time.

 

“Of course, Professor,” Iris says, in the end, not meeting her eyes.

 

_ Tap, tap _ . “Glad to see that’s settled.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Begonia whispers to him once she’s left, munching on her lip. “It’s totally my fault, I should have just ignored them.”

 

“It’s fine,” Iris dismisses it, swallowing hard. How many hours will he have to spend on working this grade back up? What did he get wrong? He wishes he could have the test back to check the corrections. “They knew to bring up Lillium, I’d have snapped anyway.”

 

“I’m still sorry,” Begonia sighs, running her fingers through her hair.  “I hope detention isn’t too bad.”

 

“It’s not my first time.” Despite himself, Iris tries to grin at her, feeling guilty for upsetting Begonia. She was just trying to defend him, after all. Begonia knows how much money he has, wizarding or otherwise (nothing). 

 

“Oh, yeah, I remember,” she smiles, a little. “Lillium called you his hero for two weeks after that.”

 

“Merlin, he’s like a puppy.” Iris shakes his head in disbelief, fighting to keep down a stupid smile. He remembers that, a few years back. Some older kids in Gryffindor humiliated Lillium in front of everyone, making fun of him for how he looked, and calling him slurs because Lillium likes sneaking in the kitchens and cooking with the house elves. Iris landed them two days in the infirmary.

 

“But he’s  _ your _ puppy,” Begonia teases. 

 

“Heaven forbid.”

 

Detention isn’t particularly entertaining, unsurprisingly. Iris gets to the dungeons after his last class, taking steadying breaths and biting his tongue so hard it bleeds. The Professor is sitting on her chair, waiting for him with her legs crossed.

 

“Mr. Black,” she greets him, voice cold. “I’m going to choose to trust you and leave you alone here. I hope everything will be spotless in the morning.”

 

“Of course.” In other words:  _ if anything happens in the Dungeons, it’s now automatically your fault _ .

 

Before she reaches the door, the Professor, turns around and says, “Oh, and Mr. Black?”

 

“Yes, Professor?” Iris counts to ten in his head.

 

“Don’t do your absurd painting trick,” she bites. “It’s useless, and we appreciate  _ real magic _ here at Hogwarts.” She taps the doorframe with her nails,  _ tap, tap _ , and leaves.

 

Iris swallows hard, finger curling around his wand so tight he fears it might break. His chest aches, a dark hollow in his sternum. He tells himself,  _ you need a job _ .

 

He really wants to break something, though.  _ But he won’t _ .

 

The potions classroom is eerie, once there’s no one else in it. The Amortentia cauldrons are covered up at the end of the classroom, waiting patiently to be ready. Apart from the occasional bubbling coming from some vials in the back of the room, it’s completely silent. Iris wonders how long it’ll be before he’s done, surveying the dirty countertops and the misplaced materials. Probably two hours, if he has to use proper procedure to disinfect everything (and the Professor will certainly want that to be done, won’t she?). 

 

He gets the main tools from the back, wrinkling his nose at the smell (First Year always forget to clean equipment, gross), and starts to classify them - 

 

“Is she already gone?” 

 

Iris jumps in place, turning around so quickly it gives him whiplash. Lillium, from where he’s standing in the middle of the potions classroom, grins at him, and holds up a packet of Every Flavour Beans. “Hey.”

 

“Oh,  _ Merlin _ ,” Iris breathes out, glaring. “You almost gave me a heart attack!”

 

“Aw, did your heart skip a beat when you saw me? Did it go ‘doki-doki’?”

 

“I am never letting you watch anime again,” Iris declares, crossing his arms over his chest. “What are you doing here?”

 

“Well.” Lillium smirks, waving his arms around and bringing his fingers to his lips, winking. “I heard you were punished by defending my honour, so I naturally came here to help you.”

 

“You don’t have to,” Iris mutters, glancing down at his feet. “And it wasn’t like that, you know it.”

 

“Begonia also told me Potions didn’t go as well as expected,” Lillium adds, moving closer and holding up the bag of sweets as a shield, smiling tentatively. “And I thought some magical candy would probably help with that.”

 

Iris doesn’t say anything.

 

“I also brought your emo music,” Lillium mumbles, close enough that they’re almost touching. He fits the bag of Every Flavour Jelly Beans in Iris’s pocket, tucking it properly, and, to his surprise, kisses his forehead.

 

Iris shuts his eyes.

 

“I’m sorry, Iris,” Lillium whispers. “But it’s going to be okay, alright? You’re going to get this back, I know you will.”

 

“Yeah,” Iris says, low and unsure.

 

“Yes, you will.” Lillium kisses him on the forehead,  _ again _ . Iris can’t think. His lips are soft, and warm, and Iris is too fragile right now to resist. Lillium smells like freshly picked lilies and coffee.

 

“Iris -”

 

“Come to the Yule Ball with me,” Iris blurts out, sudden, unplanned and  _ honest _ .

 

“What?” Lillium sounds shocked, so Iris opens his eyes. He’s slightly terrified that he just fucked up majorly. His friend’s own eyes are wide, focused on him. He can feel Lillium’s breath on his cheek. “W-what?”

 

“Be my date, for the Yule Ball,” Iris repeats, swallowing. 

 

For a few moments, Lillium doesn’t say anything, just continues to stare at him. Then, he licks his lips, drawing Iris’s attention to them immediately, and snorts. “I can’t believe you, Iris Black.”

 

“What?” 

 

“I was going to ask you!” Lillium whines, wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling him up, holding him in the air. Iris kicks at him, squirming in his arms. It  _ tickles _ .

 

“Put me down!”

 

“I had it all planned, I had the sweets, the music, the perfect mood -”

 

“Lillium, I  _ will _ hex you!”

 

“ - he goes out and just asks me! Can you believe it?”

 

“Li - “ Iris giggles, unable to help himself, and punches Lillium’s chest weakly, pursing his lips. “Put me down.”

 

“Alright, alright.” Lillium pouts, setting him on the ground gently. Iris scowls at him. It’s those muscles from playing Quidditch, the stupid jock. Lillium beams at him, and rubs their noses together, making him almost swallow his own tongue. “I’d love to be your date, Iris.”

 

Lillium puts him down, but he doesn’t let him go.

 

…

 

Begonia hugs him when he tells her, fidgeting with his hands and trying to get it out while tongue-tied.

 

She says, “I’m glad you two figured it out.”

 

Iris is, too.

 

…

 

“Yo, Black,” a Slytherin second year waves at him, and Iris looks up from where he’s sitting on the sofa nervously. “Your boyfriend came to pick you up for that weird dance thing.”

 

“He’s not my -” Iris averts his gaze. 

 

He’s not sure  _ what _ Lillium is, now. They haven’t kissed, but this is a date, right? Iris called it a date, and Lillium didn’t disagree. This  _ has _ to be a date. God, what if it isn’t a date? But Iris dressed up and everything! He did  _ not _ spend two hours going up and down to the Hufflepuff Common Room, asking Begonia for advice on what Lillium likes, for this  _ not _ to be a date.

 

“Um, yeah, whatever.” The second year rolls his eyes. “Just get the door before the others ban your Gryffindor boyfriend.”

 

“Respect your elders.” Iris sticks his tongue out, but he gets up from the sofa, trying to calm himself down. The others Slytherins left a short while ago, so they won’t be the firsts there but they also won’t have a crowd at the door.

 

He can do this. Legs shaking, Iris walks to the Common Room entry, licking his lips, and opens the door.

 

“Hey,” Lillium breathes at him, beaming. He’s wearing a stupid  _ suit _ , just like him, and -

 

“Are those iris flowers?” he asks, unable to help himself, gaping at him. “Oh my god, you did  _ not _ .”

 

Lillium’s holding a bouquet in his hands. It’s huge, large enough to cover his entire head without trouble, and it’s all tied up with a silver ribbon. There’s only one type of flower in it, though: purple, half-open, gorgeous irises. Iris doesn’t really know what to say.

 

“It took me three weeks to find the correct spell.” Lillium smiles sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. He hands Iris the flowers, awkwardly stuffing them in his hand. “But I got there.”

 

“You are  _ such _ a dork,” Iris laughs, feeling warmth pool in the pit of his stomach. He holds his free hand up, touching his hair gently. “Did you brush this mess, too?”

 

“Hey, watch it!” Lillium winks. “The hair’s a masterpiece. I’ve got my secrets.”

 

“You dyed your roots,” Iris murmurs. His fingers sink into Lillium’s pink hair, and he plays with it gently, noticing how soft it is. He wants to keep touching it all night.

 

“Yeah, well.” Lillium coughs, and peeks up from between his eyelashes. His cheeks are red. “I wanted to look good for my date, you know?”

 

Iris smiles, flushed. “Yeah, doofus. I know.”

 

“You, er.” Lillium swallows. “You cleaned up pretty nicely.”

 

“...Yeah, um.” Iris looks away. “Of course I did.”

 

“Yeah,” Lillium whispers. “Of course you did.”

 

…

The Yule Ball is...well,  _ awkward _ .

 

Everyone’s dancing quite terribly, which is completely unsurprising. The champions are the worst of all, suffering under the stares of all the judging teenagers (Iris can see the twins dancing with a cute Russian guy, and mentally applauds it). There’s no alcohol, either, because people from fourth year up have been invited, and Professors are watching, so it doesn’t really have the ambiance from a party.

 

The ballroom is beautiful, though; the Great Hall’s been transformed into something out of a fairytale, and Iris doesn’t know just how much spellwork was necessary for that. The more prominent colours are white and silver, dominating the walls and rock floor easily. There’s glass chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, pulsing with yellow light. Silk curtains hang from balconies, falling down in glittery cascades and tied up with artistic ribbons. To the left, a buffet table is set, with all the food that nobody ever wants to have. To the right, chairs for the ones who aren’t dancing.

 

“Dance with me,” Lillium asks as soon as they get there, holding out his hand. Iris is pretty sure he’s sweating. It’s gross, but weirdly endearing.

 

“Do you even know how to dance?” Iris asks, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Hey, we all got classes.” Lillium shrugs, smirking. “Guess you’ll have to find out, won’t you?”

 

“If I lose my leg because you step on me, you’re carrying me everywhere.”

 

“Is that a promise?”

 

Iris takes his hand.

 

They’re clumsy, which is to be expected. Instead of dancing, they mostly spin around in uneven circles, avoiding people on the dancefloor so as not to knock into them. Lillium steps on his toes a few times, making him wince, and they don’t follow the beat too closely. Mostly, though, Iris just stops breathing, and focuses on how  _ gorgeous _ Lillium looks in that suit.

 

Hey, he’s human, alright?

 

“Hey.” Lillium rests his forehead against his, smiling. “Want to go outside?It’s hot in here.”

 

“Lillium White.” Iris raises his eyebrows. “Are you trying to get lucky with me?”

 

“Um.” Lillium’s gaze drops to his lips. “Of course not.”

 

Iris laughs.

 

…

 

They walk to the Great Lake, and sit down on the grass.

 

It’s quiet, outside. No music or shouting fourteen year olds anywhere to be found, fortunately. Both of them take their expensive dress shoes off, too paranoid to get them dirty with the wet grass from the December rain. Thankfully, it’s a full moon tonight, so they can see where they’re going, and trudge their way to one of the rocks next to the Lake.

 

It’s slightly damp, so Lillium casts a Drying Charm, taking his wand out of his trouser pockets and muttering in slightly sleepy Latin.

 

“And here I thought you were just happy to see me.” Iris shakes his head in disapproval.

 

Lillium chokes. “ _ Merlin _ , Iris.” It’s hard to tell in the dark, but he’s pretty sure he’s blushing.

 

They sit down together, their thighs touching.Iris can feel the warmth radiating from the other boy, sinking into his skin and sharing the heat. It’s reassuring, in a way. Lillium rests his head on Iris’s shoulder, sighing comfortably.

 

“Did you have fun?” Lillium mumbles.

 

“I guess it was a decent time,” Iris teases, flicking his nose with his hand. Lillium wrinkles his nose at that, and he snorts. “It was a great first date.”

 

“Why use the past tense?” Lillium smirks. “It isn’t over yet.”

 

“I don’t know what crazy plans you have.” Iris points at him, accusatory. “But after dancing for an hour, I’m ready to collapse right now. If you have a strategy to seduce me, it’ll have to wait until morning.”

 

“No seducing plans,” Lillium promises. His eyes twinkle. “But first dates aren’t over without the goodnight kiss.”

 

And, before Iris can say anything, he leans in.

 

Lillium tastes likes strawberry, a strange mix between freshness and sugar, and he’s warm under Iris’s hands. Lillium makes small, irresistible sounds, and Iris wants to spend his whole night here, the water whistling at their feet, the heat coursing between their bodies.

 

Lillium is his.

 

…

 

The moment Iris smells Amortentia  a few days later, the aroma reminds freshly picked flowers and coffee.

 

It surprises absolutely no one.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are appreciated! Leave some feedback for vel on her [AMAZING COMIC](http://ctccomic.com/)  
> Come find me on [tumblr](http://i-read-good-books.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/gomadelpelorota)


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